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February of 2016 is a hard month for Chris.
It's impossible for him to face each day not comparing it to his life a year ago. The buzz of freedom from creative constraints has faded and his memories of that time in his life are already turning softer.
He misses belonging, like that. Too many of those friends faded fast from his life and there are moments when he wants to gather them all back close up to him. He probably could, if he tried, but why? He can never quite talk himself into nostalgia being a good reason to step backwards. Life just doesn't work like that.
But he buys a bottle of whiskey on Darren's birthday and drinks half of it while listening to music and wondering what Darren is doing, wherever he is.
*
Darren spends the first day of his 29th year drunk and loving life.
He doesn't think about Chris much, not until the next day when he wakes up with his stomach rolling and his head killing him, mind still caught in the confusion of a dream. His mostly-sleeping brain feeds him crystal clear memories and fantasies twined together, thoughts of Chris and laughter and candles and frosting kisses in fake hallways.
He wakes two hours later feeling like he could cry, but unable to remember why. The dream is gone and if he's a little quieter that day, a little more unsteady on his feet, it's easy enough for him to join his friends in writing it off to post-birthday blues.
*
There's one phone conversation. It comes a few weeks shy of one of those morbid anniversaries Chris isn't sure why he keeps track of. The date is just burned into his mind along with the good ones: the last time he kissed Darren when they were a them.
He almost doesn't answer because as much as he misses the sound of Darren's voice, he's not sure he trusts his memories now. But it's Darren so he answers and for twenty minutes they talk like - like it's normal. Like they're people who do this, just call each other, for no reason at all.
Chris doesn't tell Darren that he's got a date in an hour.
Only toward the end does it turn sharp with emotion. There's a sigh, and a weird little stutter of breath from Darren, and he says, "I was just - thinking about you. A lot, lately."
"Yeah," Chris says. "I guess - me too."
It's weird when he realizes that it's true, but that he hadn't realized it before. Was there ever a time when he hasn't thought about Darren a lot? It's just gotten easier and easier to tuck the thoughts away. They don't hurt now like they did before.
Darren says he has to go a few minutes later. He's on another project - always working, not quite finding a big break but keeping his head above water enough to still have hope. Chris doesn't go out of his way to avoid watching things Darren's in, but indie movies and guest spots on shows Chris doesn't watch - they haven't been hard to avoid so far.
When he hangs up the phone, Chris realizes he doesn't even know where Darren was. He looks briefly at his computer, but he knows too well that internet stalking your ex is an entirely new level of complicated when it's actually possible to follow their every move through a few thousand other sets of eyes.
At least he has enough perspective to know that what the internet sees of Darren isn't really reflective of what Darren actually feels, and does. He leaves the laptop closed and gets ready for his date.
(It's a horrible date. Chris is almost relieved.)
*
Darren buys a house in New York.
His brother asks him why he even waited a year. Darren shrugs the question off, because what can he really say?
He thought Los Angeles might call back to him. He thought the distance might eat him alive. He thought so many things that didn't actually turn out to be true at all.
New York is home now.
*
They see each other at Lea's wedding in the fall.
They both attend alone, and leave together. It's probably the best sex they've ever had. They have room service breakfast naked in bed together but Darren has a plane to catch the next morning.
They kiss goodbye without risking any promises, and it feels like progress.